


Faith

by Seif114



Category: Elder Scrolls
Genre: Action, Daedra, Daedric Princes, Dark moments, Death, Drama, F/M, Gotta have a few of them tossed in here now don't we, Hircine/Reader - Freeform, However Argonians and Khajiit readers will kinda be ruled out, I'll do my absolute best to keep everyone in character, Non-Dragonborn Reader, Non-Werewolf reader, Non-race specific reader, Reader isn't some well known hero, Romance, Sexy times in later chapters, That would be boring, The Hunting Grounds, They're not going to like each other when they first meet, Werewolves, What with the fur/scales and tails and all that, You plant corn and have a cow, You're a farmer, slow build up, there will be:
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6498781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seif114/pseuds/Seif114
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taken in the middle of the night, used as a sacrifice in a black magic ritual, and now soul bound to the Stag Prince, it’s fair to say that luck has left you far behind. Tossed into the Hunting Grounds can you find a way to break the curse that was cast upon you? Will you first fall to the Prince of the Hunt or to his enemies? With foes hiding amongst friends and danger looming ever closer can you stand tall admits the darkness of oblivion or will you lose your faith and succumb to it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Cold Night

**Author's Note:**

> I'll start by saying right off the bat that this story is an experiment. Normally I only write Devil May Cry stories and whenever I try writing something for a different fandom I can never really get into it enough to finish them.  
> (Note: If I know I won't finish a story then I delete them. There are alot of abandoned stories floating around out there and I don't want to add to that mess)  
> But this story has been in my head for sometime now and I figured I'd take another shot at trying to expand my fics to other fandoms.
> 
> Another thing to be noted is that while I will try my hardest to keep the character non race specific, Argonians and Khajiit readers will kinda be ruled out. (with the fur/scales and tails and what not. Sorry) 
> 
> Also to be noted, the reader is NOT the dragonborn nor any great hero. I actually get annoyed that all the Elder Scrolls fics out there feature the main playable character from the games. That's boring and predictable. Here we have this WHOLE BIG world to play with and everyone is writing about the same over powered characters. Nope. Not this story. You're a farmer. No powers or special skills. Nothing like that. Just a plain ol gal working the land. 
> 
> With all that said and out of the way, I hope that you will enjoy this story. :)  
> 

Faith  
Chapter 1: One Cold Night  
  
_“Do not provoke something you do not fully understand. Those actions could very well be your last.” -Unknown_  


\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mad. He has gone completely and utterly mad. What is he thinking? What on Nirn could be running through his head? He had taken you from your house in the middle of the night, away from your home. The rope cuts onto your wrists as you struggle to break free. The carriage rocks you and all you can do is stare at the driver’s back thinking about how crazy he has to be. 

You try to talk. To ask why he’s doing this; to ask where he’s taking you and what he plans on doing. But with the gag tied tightly in your mouth all you can manage are a few quivering moans which go unanswered. 

Cold bites at your skin and the snowfall picks up. Even for the land of Skyrim this weather is bitter. The little amount of sky you can see peeking through the tall pines is filled with dark clouds hide the light of the moons and stars above. The black snowy night reflects your feelings of hopeless dread and fear. 

The carriage stops at the side of a narrow dirt road with the horse coming to a halt with an uneasy whinny. It seems that even it can sense the dark aura in the air and wishes to escape from this place. As if to amplify the tension in the atmosphere the frozen wind picks up it’s howling pace. 

The man jumps off the wagon before circling around to the back. His grip on your arm as he drags you to the ground is bruising. A fear soaked whimper escapes through your gag as he pulls you off into the thick black forest. You stumble over roots and the bottoms of your bare feet become sticky with blood as sharp rocks cut into them. 

If he notices then he doesn’t care. The man simply walks on at a quick pace dragging you along. Tall grass and twigs scrape and twist at your legs like hands trying to stop you from going where you are being led. 

The road long since out of sight, the man finally comes to a stop at the base of a short cliff. The small area has been cleared of debris. A nearby tent and piles of books and papers hint at your captor comes here regularly. In the center of the clearing sits some sort of pentagram and while you do not know it’s purpose, it is clear that very dark magic is involved which only makes you even more fearful of the fate that awaits you. 

The man pounds a stake into the ground in the center of the circle. The smile on his face resembles a child when given sweets. After he facens your bound hands to the stake to ensure you cannot escape he all but skips over to a book littered table. 

Fear rushes through you. Surely he has completely lost it. You half expect the Prince of Madness to come down and whisk him away to the Shivering Isles, crazy as he is. What in oblivion could compel him to do such a thing? You thought you knew him. You thought he cared about you. Never in your life would you have thought him to use you in some dark ritual. What does he even plan to do? Sacrifice you to summon a daedra or something? But why would he even want to? Perhaps his intentions are even darker yet? Is this some sort of revenge he’s exacting against you? What have you ever done to him? You had always treated him with the respect he demanded. You always did everything he asked of you. So why is he doing this to you?

Tears stream down your face half freeze in the cold wind. Whimpers leave your trembling form and you struggle as best as you are able to try to break free from your bindings. 

“Don’t bother struggling my dear,” He speaks casually, not bothering to look up from his book and papers. “Those bonds are reinforced. You won’t be going anywhere.” 

You want to argue. To beg him to let you go. All that escapes through the gag are incoherent moans and groans. 

“Now now, no tears. Crying is unbecoming of a young maiden. You should, in fact, be happy. This is a joyous occasion my dear. This is a time for merriment and celebration. For tonight will be marked in the history books as the night when the impossible became possible. No longer will the people of Tamriel live in fear. For on this night, with my magic and your sacrifice, a Daedric Prince shall die with no hope of ever returning to Nirn nor Oblivion.” He laughs happily.

“But most of all my dear,” The man moves, book in hand to stand before you just outside the circle. “Tonight I shall avenge my beloved and finally have vengeance against the Prince of the Hunt. He shall know agony just as she did! And it will all be thanks to you my dear.”

Daedric Princes? Sacrifice? It’s not even possible to kill a Daedric Prince. Is it? If it is then surely it would have been done by now. Fear courses through you and your trembling becomes almost violent. He plans to kill you doesn’t he? Sacrifice you so that Hircine will die. Your mind can’t even begin to understand how his death and your own are linked together. You don’t want to die. You want to go back home to your farm. You want to tend to your crops. Bessy is due to give birth to her calf any day now. You want to be there for her and her newborn. You want to watch the plants grow and pick wildflowers to set on your bedside table. You don’t want to be a sacrifice, you want to live.

“Like I said before it’s no use struggling, those bonds are reinforced. Now be a good girl and behave. This is a two step process you see. It took me ten years of research and experimentation to finally figure it out. First I use my magic to activate that pentagram you are in. It connect to Hircine’s Hunting Grounds. Once active it’ll act as a sort of portal. Then I’ll be able to fuse your soul with his very essence; like tieing two strings together. Once tied, any injuries you endure will be transferred onto him and theoretically including any pain. Then all I have to do is kill you. When you die, so will he and since you will be bound together he won’t be able to come back from oblivion.”

“However I’m torn on a decision,” He pauses as if to consider his thoughts. “I don’t simply want him to die. That’s not much of a revenge on my part. No, I need him to suffer. However, that means that you will suffer just as much as he. On the other hand if I carry it out to long then he may just come and try to stop me, and I can’t have that. Even with this plan of mine he is still a Daedric Prince and I am just a mortal. Nevertheless, it’s far time we get things going don’t you think so my dear?”

Your wide eyes stare at him in complete disbelief. That’s his plan? He means to bind you to a daedra, one of the Princes no less, and then kill you? This is what he has been up to for the past ten years? Those years when you thought he cared for you. That whole time he had planned to use you in this insane ritual and kill you off just so he can have his revenge? What guarantee is there that this will even work? 

The surrounding forest seems to darken when his chanting begins. The circle below you bursts to life with an array of light while the world outside of it blurs and fades. While you can still see the dark pines they’re overlapped with the image of different trees. Tall, old looking ones covered in thick vines and leaves. It’s like holding two paintings on top of each other over a fire. You can see both images but only the basic shapes. It’s hard to tell what is from one painting and what is from the other. 

The man’s words grow louder now, but are at the same time muffled to where you can’t make them out. At first you think that you’re just imagining it. A barely there, light feeling in the distance. But as seconds go by you become more sure of it. The feeling grows and becomes stronger as it closes in on you. 

Your heart beats like a rabbit trying to outrun a hungry fox. A new surge of fear washes over you as this feeling becomes more powerful and closer still. It presses against you and you feel the air leave your lungs. You imagine that this must be what it is like to be stepped on by a mammoth or giant. You can feel it crash against your chest unrelenting, the pain almost unbarable. You don’t even hear yourself screaming through the gag. Your vision darkens at the edges and you begin to feel dizzy, yet the pressure never eases. 

You feel like you’re dying. You want to die. Anything, anything to make it stop. It feels as if your chest is being split in two with a burning axe. The pain and fiery heat to much to bear. You want to scream but your lungs refuse to take in any air to push out. Your throat is tight and raw. Please, you just want it to stop. You don’t care if you live or die anymore just so long as the torment ends. 

Then in an instant the crushing pressure seems to enter your chest, like a dislocated joint being forced to pop back into place. The fiery heat flares and makes you feel like you’re burning up from the inside out. That you will be reduced to a pile of ash and you want nothing more than to feel the bitter wind against you. You have no such luck. There is no chilled wind to tame the fire in your chest. Nothing to relieve the pressure that still resides there. 

Just when you think it can’t get any worse, when you wish to oblivion that you were dead, the pressure eases away and the fire slowly subsides to a dull warmth within your chest. Piercing anger shoots through your relief like a red hot arrow. The rage is overwhelming and you fall onto your side not caring that with your hands still bound to the stake it causes your arms to twist painfully and makes the ropes cut into your wrists. 

The fear for your life you had felt shortly ago dulls in comparison to the pure horror that now courses through you at feeling the unshackled wrath within you. This rage is not your own however, a realization that only builds your terror even higher. If this anger you feel isn’t your own then could it be… 

The light emanating from the pentagram flickers from dull to bright, white to red. Outside the circle the two worlds seem to be battling each other. One moment you can hardly see the dark pines while the large trees become more prominent. The next second it switches to the pines being dominant and the lush trees fade to almost nothing. They continue to switch back and forth with the changing light of the pentagram. 

“What’s happening? Something’s gone wrong,” The man drops the book with worry thickly coating his face. “I’ll have to do it now before it’s too late.” 

You watch as he pulls a sharpened dagger from the belt at his waist and step towards you. You try to back away however doing so proved futile with your hands bound to the stake and the force of the anger you feel within you prevents you from sitting up. The shining blade draws ever closer. The madman stops just outside of the circle, knowing better then to step foot inside. 

“Goodbye my dear. You’re noble sacrifice will not be in vain. You shall be remembered throughout history as the maiden that brought down a Daedric Prince.” 

You see the wisp of silver as the dagger comes down upon you. An explosion of red light surrounds your body just as pain floods your right arm. The light recedes to reveal that the dark pine woods have vanished as has the man. Before you is a thick forest illuminated by moonlight. A glance up confirms that the sky is no longer blanketed by fierce clouds. The cold air has also disappeared in favor of a warmer temperature. Even the pentagram below you is gone without a trace. 

A glance at your upper arm confirmed that the dagger did strike you. Thankfully it doesn’t look to bad. Considering he had planned on ending your life you lucked out with only a gash in your arm. The explosion must have been what saved you in the end. The man couldn’t see where he was hitting. If any good came from the whole situation then that was it. 

You can still feel the anger boiling within you, but, hard as it may be, you do your best to push it aside for now. Sure you’re away from the man who just tried to kill you in some freaky black magic ritual, but where are you now? Still bound and tied to a stake in the ground in the middle of the night in some dark forest. The man had said that the pentagram was a portal of sorts right? Then does that mean…? A newfound fear fills your body and soul. You are no longer on Nirn are you? No, you are now trapped within the Hunting Grounds with no way of escape. 

In the far distance you can hear animals growling and snarling at each other. Twigs snap and bushes rustle. Whatever it is that’s out lurking within the shadows, it’s coming your way. Fast.


	2. Two Dangerous Foes

Faith  
Chapter 2: Two Dangerous Foes  
 __  
“The world consists of either predators and prey. You are either hunting or running.” -Charlene Weir  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fear courses through your very being as the sounds shrouded in shadow grow ever closer. You renew your struggle, trying to twist your hands in hopes that you can get out of your bindings. You sit up and throw your weight out away from the stake, trying to pull it up from the ground. Even if you can’t get your hands untied, if you can break your tethers to the stake in the ground then you can at least attempt to run away instead of being trapped in one place unable to even defend yourself. 

While you can still sense the rage in the back of your mind it has dulled down and isn’t as overpowering as it had before. You’re thankful for it too. With it calmer than before, even if only by a little bit, you are able to better concentrate on the task at hand. Your freedom. 

If you truly are in Hircine’s Hunting Grounds then it is only a matter of time before some beast sets it’s hungry gaze upon you and you would rather not give any foul creature of this realm an easy meal. Using whatever strength you have left, you struggle and squirm, trying oh so desperately to break free of the binds that hold you. 

An unnatural growl to your left echoes through your ears and all but stops your heart cold. Ceasing your struggles, your eyes bolt over towards the source of the horrid sound. The only thing that meets your eyes however are dark shadows cast from trees by the moonlight.

Like a lightning strike a long dark shadow flies over you. The ground seems to shake as it lands meir feet from you. You stare in horror at the large bear before you. No, not a bear. You’ve heard of these creatures before and always hoped you would never come face to face with one. The beast before you is a werebear, a creature of Hircine’s own make. You wonder what poor soul is trapped in that form, forced to do the bidding of a Daedric Prince for all eternity. 

It’s eyes, while almost human, are wild and fierce as it stares you down. Slowly, you try to scoot away from the ferocious beast without making any sudden movements. With your hands still tied tight to the stake all you manage to do hurt your wrists even further. 

The werebear lefts out a huff of air as it stares you down. Even if it is a beast you can see what it’s eyes hold. Disappointment. Disgust. You jump when it suddenly moves. Your body trembles violently as it circles you and you do your best to keep it within your sight. However when it stops behind you, you can’t turn to see what it is doing. 

Is it walking away? Did it lose interest? Perhaps it finds you boring because you are tied up and unable to give it the hunt that all those that follow Hircine seem to seek. Your hope that it wandered off is quickly crushed when you hear rustling behind you. You can hear it breath, feel it’s breath on your hands and a whimper escapes through your still gagged mouth. You shut your eyes readying for the worst. 

In the next moment you are being dragged across the rocky dirt ground and deeper into the thick forest. You let out a surprised gasp and turn as much as your body will allow to see that the werebear has the stake you are still tied to in its mouth, it walking on all fours like an actual bear.

Fear fills every inch of your being. Where is it taking you? Back to its den so it can eat you? Are you just fated to die tonight? If not by the man sacrificing you then by the jaws of a hungry werebear? You just want to return to the calm serenity of your farm. 

A particularly sharp rock finds its way against your wounded arm as the beast drags you and you let out a muffled cry. Fresh tears stream down your face only to cause dirt to stick to your cheeks. What did you ever do to deserve all of this? You were always good. You never stole anything. You always paid your Jarl’s dues. Is this because you didn’t give that one beggar some gold? He had smelled of mead and you were sure that any gold you gave him would have gone to more drinks. If a few coins led you to such misfortune then you would gladly give him half a month's pay if it meant that you can go back home and escape this nightmare. You just want to go home, is it that much to ask for?

You’re not sure how long the werebear has dragged you. At some point it had decided to head up a mountain. The side of your body that’s against the ground is scraped up and your clothes are tattered and filthy. Small twigs have tangled themselves in your hair. You tried twice to break free from the ropes binding you but both times you had only succeeded in gaining a warning growl from your furry captor. Your eyes look up to find the moons and stars shining brightly between the gaps in the tree branches. You envy them in a way. They’re able to shine so bright even though they only exist in darkness.

A glance in the direction the werebear is heading and you’re not sure if you should be relieved or even more fearful. Firelight breaks through the trees. Emerging from the shadowed forest you find that you have been dragged into a large stone courtyard. Torches light the area and reveal several daedra pacing the ground. One side of the courtyard leads to tall, wide stone stairs that wind upwards to large castle of sorts. Every castle you have seen has been made out of stone. What you can make out from this one, it’s made out of wood. If it is a castle then that explains the daedra standing guard and pacing the grounds. 

The werebear doesn’t hesitate nor do any of the guards seem to care about it or you as it walks on by and starts to make its way up the stairs. You yelp through your gag as you are dragged up the steps one at a time. You can feel your body bruising and do your best to keep your head from hitting the edge of the stone steps. 

With every collision with a step a whimper escapes you and you can feel new tears forming in the corner of your eyes and you fight to keep them from falling. By the time you make it to the top of the steps your body is throbbing with a dull pain that you know will be worse if you should live to see tomorrow. 

The castle is indeed made of wood logs placed at various angles giving it a sort of elegance. Though perhaps castle is the wrong word for it. While it is one of the largest buildings you have seen, it’s design doesn’t seem very castle-like. It reminds you more of perhaps a Jarl’s keep or noble’s lakeside summer home. 

One thing is very clear however. This is a building of status. It’s on top of a small mountain, heavily guarded and built for royalty. Add that to the fact that you’re being dragged to it by a werebear and your heart all but jumps into your throat. Oh yes you have a very good idea why you’re being brought here and who awaits within. 

A voice in your head is screaming at you to get away. That you will not come out of those doors once you go through them. You want to struggle as the large, decorative double doors come ever closer. However it has been a long night. Your body is bruised and cut up. Your arm and feet are bleeding. You are exhausted from trying to escape all night long, plus the intense pain earlier. You don’t have the energy left in you anymore and even if you did you know deep down that you wouldn’t be able to escape. Where would you even go? This is his realm and you would only be hunted down, if not by him then by his beasts. 

The werebear reaches up with one of its front powerful paws and pushes one of the doors open. The beautifully lit night sky far above you disappears in favor of a high angled ceiling and thick supporting cross beams. 

You can feel piercing eyes locked onto your form as you are dragged. You don’t look to the far end of the hall. You know who you will see and it scares the oblivion out of you. The large wooden support posts that line both sides of your path are detailedly carved at the bottom into various fierce beasts and creatures. The walls are decorated with numerous hunting trophies and weapons, each more impressive than the last. Above, the way is lit by large chandeliers intricately made out of seemingly countless antlers. 

The werebear lets the wooden stake fall from his crushing jaws. You don’t move. You’re too scared. It’s all you can do to not tremble and cry. You can feel eyes studying you. In the back of your mind the anger is alive as ever. You squirm and manage to shift to sit up off the floor. 

“Well done my servant.” A powerful male voice proudly states.

“Thank you, my lord.” A rough, gravelly voice replies. It takes you a moment to realize that it belongs to the werebear standing next to you. 

“You dare cast foul magic upon me, the Great Huntsmen? Did you think that I would not find you?” The voice drips with venom “I should let my beasts hunt you down and tear the flesh from your bones for your insolence, mortal.”


	3. Three New Names

Faith   
Chapter 3: Three New Names  
 __  
“The truth is like a lion. You don’t have to defend it. Let it loose and it will defend itself.” -St. Augustine  
  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Your dirty face becomes wet with the newest set of tears and a whimper leaves you. Gathering up all the courage within you, you gaze up upon the Stag Prince. You had never expected to come face to face with one of the Daedric Prince’s in your life, you never really wanted to. That hasn’t changed. You wish that you were back home and not at the feet of one of the Prince’s.

Standing on a small raised platform before you in front of a throne made out of animal bones and fine furs, is Hircine. His lower half is covered by a royal blue cloth and lower legs are wrapped in black leather boots topped with the same royal blue material. What throws you off is his unusual skin. It varies from tan to brown and has white spots scattered across it that remind you of the hide of a young deer. His face is hidden behind a stag skull fashioned as a mask. Majestic antlers stand tall atop his head of long dark brown hair. While you cannot see his eyes through the mask, you can feel them locked onto you and you feel as if he is gazing right into your very soul.

You are equally terrified and amazed. This is what a Daedric Prince looks like? You can feel the power radiating off of him. He can kill you at any moment. In any way that pleases him and wouldn’t bat an eye. It is that combination of power and clear anger he has towards you added to his threat that has your heart almost stopping in your chest. A cold sweat breaks out across your body and all you can do is stare up at him, wide-eyed trembling like some skooma addict going through withdraw.

Another muffled whimper of fear leaves you gagged mouth, breaking the silence in the hall. The anger that had filled the back of your mind since the ritual finally seems to fade away almost completely. In its place a new emotion emerges, though quieter than the rage, curiosity slowly blooms. It seems to swirl and mix with the remnants of the anger.

Hircine motions to the werebear next to you. The beast moves and reaching up with one of its grand paws uses a dagger sharp claw to rip the cloth off of your mouth. The remains of the gag fall to the rug beneath you. You can feel ghost lines on your face from where the cloth had been secured too tightly and you mouth is sore.

“You look the part of a frightened fawn with wolves at its heel. I can taste your fear. Yet I sense there is more to this story. Speak, I would hear your foolish reasoning.” Hircine commands.

You open your mouth but no sound comes out. Swallowing hard you will your quivering voice to leave you. “T-taken. I was taken from my home in the m-middle of the night by a man, a mage. He dragged me into the woods where he had some sort of pentagram. He forced me into it a-and started to chant a spell I think. It caused me great pain and then there was a bright flash and I ended up in your lands.”

This is it isn’t it? He’s going to kill you. After everything you’ve been through tonight, the ritual and being dragged through a different realm by a werebear, you are going to die at the hands of a Daedric Prince. Truthfully living past tonight was only a wishful thought. It was foolish to think otherwise. You’ll never see your home again. You’ll never know if your cow had a healthy calf.

“This mage, what do you know of him?”

A new sense of dread shoots through your heart like an arrow. Yes, he had used you in a black magic ritual and tried to kill you. However, if you reveal who he is then Hircine will hunt him down and kill him before you get the answers you seek. Maybe he does deserve to die. He had been driven mad and you want to know what broke him. One thing is for sure however if you tell Hircine who he is and where to find him then the Prince of the Hunt will kill him and you will never have that chance. Even if you don’t live past tonight, this moment, you want to try. From what little you know of Daedra Hircine isn’t the worst you could be dealing with. So perhaps there is a chance to live and find the mage on your own to get your answers. Even if it is a small one.

“Nothing that I have not already told you, Prince Hircine.” You lie and bow your head slightly in respect. If you want to live to get those answers you have to do what is necessary. Even if it means bowing to some foul daedra.

“We should just kill her,” The werebear growls. “Then hunt down this mage and rip out his throat.”

“No, not yet at least,” Hircine replies. “You are dismissed Dalidrar. Go now, return to your clan.” 

The werebear, Dalidrar, bows to his prince before turning to leave but not before letting out a low warning growl in your ear. With the beast now gone, you are left alone with the Prince of the Hunt which is not a comfort. He seems to be considering something. Your guess would be that he’s debating on striking you down or feeding you to one of his creatures.

Something gains your attention however. It is something small and you didn’t notice it until now. However it is something that might just get you out of here alive. On his upper left arm is a cut. While thin it is long, fairly deep and appears to be fresh. What has drawn your attention to it is the fact that it is identical to the wound you received from the mage’s dagger just as the portal exploded.

Your staring must have gained the Prince’s attention. He glances at his arm before returning his gaze to you. Turning your head you examine your own wounded arm. Your thoughts are confirmed when you are met with the same, identical wound. It is not only you that notices.

“I don’t mean to talk out of line, Prince Hircine...” You start. This could very well be the only thing that is able to keep you alive.

“Speak.”

“The mage, before he started his chanting he spoke to me. I didn’t understand much of what he had said; he seemed to be not right in the head. He said something about the ritual and how he had planned on killing you with it. He told me that there were two parts to his plan. First to bind my soul to your essence so that if I should die so shall you. He then planned, and attempted to kill me. However the spell must have been unstable and the pentagram exploded just as he brought his dagger down upon me. He had failed at taking my life but he cut my arm.”

This was a long shot by far and you know it. It’s not a lie but it is a hard truth to accept. Will he believe you? You are almost certain that the curse has something to do with the same injury being on both of your arms. 

Taking a step back, Hircine picks up a spear that had been leaning against the side of his throne. He doesn’t believe you. You were foolish to think that he might. Much to your surprise, Hircine places the polished blue stone tip against his right hand. His attention is on your own hand. With a quick motion the spear cuts into his hand. A tingling, almost ticklish sensation jolts through your palm and you manage to twist your bound wrists just enough to open your right hand.

A bloody gash on your palm mirrors Hircine’s. It’s odd though. A wound like this should hurt and yet only a slight prickling sensation dances across it. How can that be? You glance up at the prince to find him curiously studying your newest wound. The injury on his own hand is already mostly healed much to your amazement. You return your attention to your own palm and your breath catches in your lungs. You stare in complete awe as the gash is now nothing more than a thin, barely visible line.

“How is such a thing possible?” You murmur quietly more to yourself than to the Great Huntsman. 

It is clear that the curse is the cause of this strange phenomenon. But understanding it is another thing entirely. Your arm was sliced by the mage’s dagger and Hircine has the same wound on his very same arm. Then he cuts his hand and you received the identical wound. Except it didn’t hurt and it healed faster then what should be mortally possible, even if there were magic or potions involved. Is this the power of a Daedric Prince? Can they not feel pain from injuries that would be serious to mortals? Can they truly recover that quickly from a wound? 

If you felt no pain and the gash healed that quickly then why does the cut on your arm still hurt and no where closed to being healed? How does this curse work exactly? It is clear that the two of you share any injuries either of you may sustain. It makes sense in a way. If the mage wanted to sacrifice you to kill Hircine then this curse would be a way to do so. 

Perhaps because the dagger had slashed you that you felt its sting and he did not. With that theory then perhaps he did feel some pain from his spear and it didn’t carry over to you just as your dagger wound didn’t hurt him. He’s a daedra so his hand healed quickly. Is the reason why his arm isn’t healed because you are mortal and you heal slower? What if the healing rate depends on who originally sustained the wound? 

“This curse is troubling.” Annoyance evident in his voice.

“What now, Prince Hircine?” You question. 

He cut his hand as a test and the results, while not what any would hope for, do increase your chances of living through this nightmare. You share injuries and healing rates. Unless he wants to suffer alongside you, you should be safe from his wrath. For now at least. 

“I shall send a pack of my hounds to hunt down this mage and force him undo what he has done. In the meantime speak of this curse to no one, a Daedric Lord has his enemies and there are many who would use this knowledge to their advantage.” 

While his words seem calm enough the underlying threat does not go past you. Tell someone about this curse and you will be severely punished. You understand his point however. If someone were to learn of this curse then not only would he be in danger but you would be as well. Keeping it between the two of you until it can be undone seems like the best course of action right now.

“I understand.” You bow your head slightly. 

“Ellen,” Hircine turns to face a doorway on the right side of the grand hall. 

A few moments later a young nord woman wearing a simple dress rushes through the door into the grand hall to stand before Hircine. 

“You called for me, my Lord?” Her voice is quiet and timid. 

“Escort this little fawn to a room and post guards both outside the door and window. She is to remain bound,” Hircine orders before starting his way towards a door on the left side of the hall. 

“Yes, my Lord.” Ellen bows deeply as Hircine departs. 

He pauses long enough to look over his shoulder at the two of you. “Bathe her as well. She smells of filth.” 

“Yes, my Lord.” Ellen, still bowing, adds.

Your eyes remain locked onto the Great Huntsman’s bare back as you watch him disappear out of sight. It seems you narrowly escaped death. For tonight at least. What tomorrow holds is anyone’s guess. You only hope that Hircine’s hounds are unable to locate the mage before you can find him yourself.


	4. Four Small Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all for your patience waiting for this update. I know it took forever, sorry about that but the good news is that I'm starting to get back into it again. I've even got about half of the chap 5 finished already.
> 
>  
> 
> As always I love to hear feedback from you guys, with this story particularly seeing as it's my first Elder Scrolls fic. If you see any small things that are wrong (ex: if I call Tamriel earth by mistake) or other things such as that then I ask that you please point them out to me so I can fix them. I've been very careful about those types of simple mistakes because I can see myself making them the most. Thank you. :)

Faith  
Chapter 4: Four Small Things 

_“Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies.” -Mother Teresa_   
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

When your eyes open the hopes that you had of waking up in your own bed are crushed like an insect. Is discovering that this whole situation is nothing but a horrible nightmare really to much to ask for? You lived a just life, can’t the gods grant you this one little wish? 

Sitting up from the hard wooden floor that had been your bed last night, you scratch as much as you can with your hands still bound. You wince as you shift. Sleeping on the floor has left your body sore, only adding to your growing list of injuries, if you can count soreness as an injury that is. The only silver lining would be that perhaps Hircine is feeling like shit too, wherever he is. 

A small part of you finds some comfort in the thought. That’s what he gets for not giving you a proper bed to sleep in, or any furniture for that matter. The room that Ellen had taken you to after a quick bath and clean change of clothes is small and bare. There are no trophies mounted on the wall or detailed carvings. It’s a drastic change from the decor that filled the throne room. 

Standing up, you make your way over to the only window and light source. Day has broken and bright sunlight spans across the Hunting Grounds dissolving the darkness that you had found yourself lost in the previous night. You can’t see much through the narrow window but what you can see just about takes your breath away. 

In the distance you can see the forest’s treeline. Tall, thick trees tower above everything and remind you of mountains. What throws you off is the serenity of it all. It seems...peaceful, tranquil almost. You watch as mother deer and her two fawns graze on the greenest grass you have ever seen. The mother is watchful, often looking around for any signs of danger. It’s a reminder.

Beneath the tranquility lies this place’s true nature. This is a hunting ground. You know just as well as that mother deer that within the forest lurks all manner of creatures and beasts that stalk the shadows looking for their next meal; their next thrill. The peacefulness is deceiving but you know better. You had been in those woods last night, dragged through them by a werebear, a monster of Hircine’s own creation. 

How in Tamriel are you going to escape from this place? Even if you manage to find a way to make it out of the palace alive then what? You’ll still be trapped in Hircine’s Hunting Grounds. There has to be someway to get back home in one piece. Hircine had said that he planned on sending some of his beasts to hunt down the mage. If he’s sending them back to Tamriel then perhaps you can get back the same way. Providing he’s not somehow magically poofing them there. You’re running out of time and if you don’t get to the mage before Hircine then you’ll never get the answers you seek.

A soft knock at the door brings you out of your thoughts. You turn in time to watch Ellen enter with a small basket in hand. 

“Good morning,” She greets with a shy smile. “I figured that you might be hungry.”

You return the smile half heartedly. “Yes, thank you.”

She sits down in the middle of the floor and you move to join her. Ellen pulls half a loaf of bread out from her basket and offers it to you. Happily accepting any food at this point, you grasp it with both of your bound hands and start to eat.

“I had hoped to find you something more substantial, but my Lord wouldn’t allow it.” She apologies. 

“Right now I’ll take what I can get.” It had been a long and draining night, both physically and mentally. While the bread is stale having something in your stomach helps to clear your mind. 

Ellen glances back at the door cautiously. Reassured no one will walk in, she digs into the basket and pulls out a small ceramic jar and two rolls of clean bandages. 

“I noticed your injury last night,” She motions to your upper left arm. “I’m happy to see that it has stopped bleeding but it really should be tended to lest it become infected.”

“Thank you.” You murmur offering her your injured arm. 

With a gentle grip she examines your wound. It is much better this morning. The bleeding has long since stopped and the pain has mostly faded. Whenever you look at it you are reminded of just how lucky you got off; how close you were to dying last night. 

The light from the explosion had caused the mage to miss his mark and strike your arm instead of your heart. Even after that you had faced death multiple times. Bound and gagged at night in the forests of Hircine’s Hunting Grounds, any manner of beasts could have stumbled upon you. The werebear could have killed you right there and then instead of taking you to Hircine. Then there’s the Stag Prince himself. If it were not for the curse that binds you together then you have no doubt he would have cut you down the moment you had been unceremoniously dragged through his front doors. 

A hiss leaves you and you glance over to find Ellen applying some sort of pale green cream to the cut on your arm. 

“What’s that?” You question as she starts to wrap your wound with some of the clean bandages.

“It will promote healing and prevent infection. I made it this morning and use it on my own injuries. When I was a child my mother taught me how to make it. One of my better memories.” She smiles. 

A thought comes to you and you find yourself laughing at the humor of it. “Hircine won’t allow me to eat anything but stale bread but told you to treat my injuries?”

It makes sense though. You need to eat or you’ll die. He couldn’t care less if it’s good food, so long as you stay alive until the curse is dealt with. Because of the curse he carries your injuries with him as well. When he sliced his hand to test the theory you both suspected it didn’t hurt and had healed instantly. Being mortal, you heal a lot slower. It’s probably annoying for him having to wait this long for an injury to heal. That’s why he had asked Ellen to treat your wounds, to quicken the process along and ensure it won’t become even more of an inconvenience to him. 

The tension in the room grows as the silent seconds go by. The look of unease on Ellen’s face does not go unnoticed. 

“Actually…” She hesitates. “My Lord did not ask for me to tend to your wounds. He left early this morning to hunt a cockatrice in the southern valley that has been causing much trouble as of late.”

“If he didn’t tell you to do anything more than feed me why are you?” 

“Because I noticed them last night...” She lets out a sigh, almost looking defeated, giving in. “...and I heard of what you had gone through last night. You have my deepest sympathies.” 

She heard what happened to you? Concern fills you. How much does she know? How did she find out? Does she know about the mage? About the curse that he had placed upon you; that you and Hircine are bound to one another unwillingly? If so than you are in grave danger. Ellen seems kind and loyal to Hircine but considering your current situation trust is something that’s hard to afford. You have to find out exactly how much she knows.

“You know?” 

“Yes, I over heard it from one of the guards. They said that you had appeared in the western forest out of nowhere. Dalidrar had found you bound and brought you here at my Lord’s command.” 

“Dalidrar?”

“The werebear that brought you to the palace last night. Dalidrar is my Lord’s most trusted general. He protects the palace and it’s grounds from intruders, keeps the clans and packs at peace and does whatever task my Lord commands without hesitation.”

Something Ellen had told you gained your curiosity. “You said that Hircine had commanded Dalidrar to bring me to the place?”

“That is correct. Just before your arrival something had greatly angered my Lord. He seemed distressed of sorts. He then had immediately sent Dalidrar out to the western forest to investigate an intruder into his realm.”

Dalidrar showing up last night was no coincidence then. He had been sent by Hircine to find you. You’re not sure if the knowledge brings you fear or comfort. It’s unnerving that Hircine had known your exact location upon arriving into the Hunting Grounds. 

Sensing you enter is one thing. You would have been surprised if he hadn’t noticed. This is his realm after all and the magika that brought you here was powerful. To top it off you had just been bound to the Prince before unwillingly entering his realm. On the other hand a part of you is actually kind of glad he had known where you were and told Dalidrar to bring you to him. If he had not you would still be bound and gagged, staked to the ground in the middle of the forest. That is, if you somehow managed to survive the rest of the night. 

Finished tending to your arm, she moves her focus to the your feet. The cuts you had received on the bottom of them from your struggle against the mage receive the same care and attention that Ellen had given to your arm.

“I hope you will not find me rude for asking this but how did you enter my Lord’s realm? Most mortals would not be able to accomplish such a feat. It would take a considerable amount of both knowledge and magicka. You don’t look like a sorcerer and appeared to be a bit scared and confused last night. This leads me to believe that entering my Lord’s grounds was not your intention.”

So she doesn’t know how you got here. A small sense of relief washes over you at that knowledge. Now what to tell her? You can’t exactly tell her the truth. Even if she is trustworthy someone else may get the information out of her and use it against both you and Hircine. 

“In all honesty I don’t really remember how I got here,” You lie. “All I recall is waking up in the forest last night all tied up then was dragged here by Dalidrar.

A sharp, firm knock on the door brings the conversation to an immediate halt. 

“I must go now, lest the guards grow suspicious and discover that I’ve tended to your wounds without my Lord’s blessing.”

“Thank you again.” You offer a grateful smile examining the bandages now wrapped around your feet.

Swiftly she gathers up the remaining bandages and her jar of cream, returning them to the basket before standing. With a small bow you watch as she opens the door and scurries out. The door slams shut and you hear the click of a lock being turned. 

With some food in your stomach and your wounds tended to you feel a little better than you had when you woke up. Even the short conversation you had with Ellen helped to cheer you up a bit. It’s the first pleasant conversation you have had with anyone since you arrived in this nightmare and it brings a small sense of comfort.

Alone once more your previous thoughts return to you. How are you ever going to escape from Oblivion’s greatest hunter?

Your heart races and adrenaline floods your system. What’s happening? You stare at your hands and watch them as they shake uncontrollably. You feel anxious and stand to pace the room like a caged lion, unable to be still. It had come out of nowhere and is leaving you panting for breath. Your eyes dart about the room, searching desperately for something, but what that something is, you do not know. 

What is this? Fear? Has the thought of having to escape from the Daedric Prince of the Hunt brought this feeling upon you? Hircine is a terrifying force to face under any circumstances and yours are less than favorable. You had already come face to face with him last night and while you were scared out of your mind is wasn’t like this. Is this feeling the curse’s doing? Making you feel so….

Then realization hits you like a mammoth. What you are feeling, it is not fear. Your trembling body, restlessness in your bones, racing heart, and panting breath; you are excited. Adrenaline courses through your veins and the sense of thrill dances up and down your spine. 

You can feel it in the back of your mind. Such pure, untamed, intense excitement. The feeling invaded and clashes against your thoughts. It reminds you of something. When you had first arrived at the Hunting Grounds you had felt an unbridled anger consuming your mind like a burning hot fire. Then in the throne room, when confronted with the Stag Prince, that anger had finally subsided and changed into curiosity.

It doesn’t make sense though. Why are you feeling things that aren’t yours? You weren’t angry or curious. You had been scared, terrified. Those feelings are not your own. They are like a force invading your mind. If they are not your own feelings then whose are they? A ping of dread fills you. The curse binds you to Hircine, perhaps this is just part of it. 

Ellen had said that he was deeply angered before your arrival. Was that his anger that you felt; that hot, burning, feeling that felt like boiling water was being poured over you? You can feel what he feels not just physically but emotionally as well. His anger had died down when you were tossed at his feet. He knew you were scared, he even stated as much though you’re sure that much was fairly obvious. Perhaps that is what made him curious? He wanted to know how you got to his pocket of oblivion. As terrified as you were the chances of you invading his Hunting Grounds intentionally were unlikely, added to that the fact that you were bound and gagged. 

A clearer picture starts to form in your mind, like a puzzle slowly being put together piece by piece. Okay, so you can feel what he does physically like when he had cut his hand and yet you felt no pain from it, only a tingle. But also emotionally such as when he was angry and curious. So this excitement that is currently overwhelming you is what he is feeling right now.

Ellen had said that Hircine isn’t currently at the palace. She told you that he had gone to some valley south of here to hunt...what was it? A cockatrice? Your eyes go wide and your feet freeze in place. This is how the Great Huntsman feels when hunting? When tracking down and killing his prey? 

How can anyone, anything take such pleasure in killing? In ending a life? Even when you were a child is had always distressed and saddened you when it came time to slaughter some of the livestock. You had begged your father not to, to just let the cows and pigs live their lives out in peace. They were your friends. You didn’t want them to die much less eat them. Yet Hircine revels in hunting and killing anything and anyone he can. It chills you to the bone. There is no doubt in your mind that the Prince of the Beasts is truly the greatest monster of all.


	5. Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best work but at this point I'm just happy to get something out. 
> 
> I want to take some time and tell all of you who have supported me while I'm in this year long writers block from hell THANK YOU! Thank you for sticking with me and for being so INCREDIBLY damn patient with me.  
> I'd love to say that I've over my block but I'd rather be honest with all of you by saying that it's not over yet, but I'm really trying to fight this lack of inspiration to write anything.

Faith  
Chapter 5: Storm

_“Don’t let your faith dim in the storm of life.” -Elder Bruce D. Porter_

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You spend most of your day staring out the window and pace trying to think of a plan to get back home and to the mage before Hircine’s beasts. Magicka had brought you here and you have a dreaded suspicion that it will be the only way back. You are no mage. All things magical are far beyond your understanding. You were born and spent your life on a farm. If gardening or tending to cattle or horses could get you home then you would be back by now. 

First things first however, you need to get out of this room. So long as you’re locked up here you will never find a way back home. Perhaps if you go back to where you were first thrown into this world? The explosion from the failed pentagram tossed you here. For that short time a portal connecting Tamriel to the Hunting Grounds had opened. Even if you do not possess the knowledge to reopen it maybe there’s a clue there that will help you. 

It’s a bad lead, you know, chances are you won’t find anything if you make it there through the forest in one piece that is. But right now it’s the only thing you have to go on. You can’t stay in this room and roaming the palace for some answers is definitely out with Hircine and his beasts roaming about. If you are caught then precautions will be made to ensure you cannot escape again. 

The question is, how do you escape? The door is locked and has guards stationed outside it. The window, while lacking glass, is so narrow you wouldn’t even be able to get your head through plus your room is on the second floor. You would survive the jump but the chances of twisting an ankle or getting hurt would be fairly high and since you are bound to Hircine even if you sustain a minor injury he’ll notice and no doubt investigate. 

You have the guard rotations just about memorized. There doesn't seem to be a large number of guards but the ones that do patrol the palace grounds are the last thing you want to encounter. While they appear like normal guards, this is the Hunting Grounds and the chances of them being a werebeast are very high. If they are beasts then their senses will be more sensitive than that of a normal mortal’s, which makes escaping unnoticed even more difficult. 

You can see from your window just about where you had been dragged out of the forest. It had been night and very dark, but you know for a fact that it was in that direction if nothing else. 

You notice something near the forest’s edge. A patch of the tall, lush grass is darker, stained with blood. The deer from this morning had been by that spot. Faint drag marks lead from the blood pool into the forest. Just another reminder of how much this is a eat or get eaten world. You can’t help but to wonder which of the deer got eaten. Was it the mother or one of her young? It angers you. All the three ever wanted was to peacefully eat grass. The mother wanted her young to live and grow but now one of their lives got cut short. 

A sudden rumble echoes through the sky as dark clouds on the horizon move in. By the look of it the incoming storm is going to be a bad one. Already the wind picks up swirling tree branches and pulling their loose leaves off. Storms never bothered you much, but the approaching one sends a ping of nervousness down your spine. Below movement catches your eye. Two guards outside rush by with their weapons drawn. Rain starts to fall, light at first but quickly picking up it’s pace to an all out downpour. 

Nearby commotion causes you to dart around to the thick wooden door. Quick footsteps rush away from your door. Something is wrong. The wind and thunder heavily increase outside, mirroring the tension building within the palace. The guards wouldn’t leave their post outside your door unless something major is happening. 

Pressing an ear to the cool grain of the door you pick up the sound of muffled yelling and loud noises. Whatever it is, it’s not right outside your door but is close enough to twist your nerves. Something is very, very wrong. 

You don’t have time to react when you hear the click of the lock. The door swiftly swings open and you end up hitting the floor from the force of it. You prepare for anything, guards, attackers, even Hircine. Instead you are met with the worried face of Ellen. She’s breathing heavy, out of breath most likely from running. 

“Come quickly.” She moves frantically grabbing your arm and pulling you to your feet. She peaks out the door to quickly check if it is safe and in the next moment she’s swiftly dragging you down the hall.

“What’s going on?” You ask matching your pace to her’s.

“The palace is under attack,” She pants. “My Lord has not yet returned from the southern valley. You can escape in the confusion.”

“Why help me? Won’t Hircine be upset that you’re going against him?”

The way ahead becomes blocked by guards fighting attackers. The intruders aren’t daedra, which surprises you. In fact, they appear to be normal mortals dressed in hooded robes. Ellen jerks you down an adjoining hallway to avoid detection from either group and the two of you continue on running as quietly and quickly as possible. You find that keeping up with Ellen is much more difficult with your hand still bound together at the wrist.

“Should he find out I will be punished, yes, but...“ A frown paints it’s way across her lips and she glances at you with sympathy. “I feel bed for you. You appeared so scared and confused last night. You don’t even remember how you arrived here or what happened to you before hand. I want to help you if I can.”

Ellen reminds you of your mother. Gentle, kind, and always putting the wellbeing of others before her own. It brings you a small sense of comfort and security. The thought of Hircine finding out that she helped you escape worries you. She has been the only person that’s been nice to you since you arrived in this nightmare. You don’t want her to suffer for your sake. 

At the same time however, you can’t exactly turn down her help. Time is against you and you have to get back home and find the mage before Hircine does or it will all be over. As the two of you rush down the hallway you catch glimpses from within various room and corridors of guards fighting off the intruders. 

The attackers tople tables, set fires, and even corner some of the servants before taking their lives. It sends a jolt of horror down your back. They have no mercy, cutting down even those who are defenseless and trying to escape the chaos. 

Ellen, still with a firm grip on your arm, pulls you down a set of stairs just before a stray arrow impales itself into the wooden wall panels where your head had been not but a moment ago.

Gazing out through the smoke that has started to fill the palace due to the now raging fires, you recognize where you stand. The throne room that had looked so magnificent the light before now is all but in ruins having been hit the hardest from the attack. 

Mounted trophies burn where they hang on the walls, elegantly detailed tapestries are now shredded into unrecognizable scraps, and the throne that Hircine had stood in front of the previous night is now toppled over with nearby flames threatening to consume it as well. 

The bodies of both fallen guards and slain intruders litter the floor, blood soaking into and staining the once lushus pelt rugs. A handful of the guards still remain, fighting against the attackers with what little strength they have left. 

Ellen points to the large open doors at the other end of the long room. “There, the front entrance, while everyone is still yet fighting you can escape unnoticed.” 

Hope fills you. This is it, the only chance you will have of escaping this place. You may actually make it back to Tamriel in time to save the mage from Hircine’s wrath. You feel so close to getting the answers you so desperately seek. Surely the mage had a good reason for doing what he did. You knew him, grew up knowing him. He isn’t the type to just snap and attempt to sacrifice you in order to kill a Daedric Prince. Something had to of been wrong with him. What that something is, you haven’t the slightest idea. Perhaps he was ill or was forced to do such a vile task. You _have_ to know what happened to make him do such a thing to you. 

“That’s her!” A male voice rises above the chaos.

Both you and Ellen dart around to discover a tall figure clad in white armor from head to toe standing proud next to the toppled over throne. Behind him are two others, one woman and another man, both dressed in the same armor. 

In an instant the three charge towards you and Ellen.Fear floods you, the sound of your frantic heart beating in your chest echoes in your ears. 

“Ellen, come on!” You yell and push her along moving her from where she had been frozen with terror.

“Ensure the bound one does not escape!” One of the men yells behind you. “Quickly, kill her!”

The two of you race as fast as your legs can carry you through the ruins of the throne room towards the broken in front doors. Ellen, still tightly gripping your arm bumps into your side sending you off balance and you nearly fall into one of the burning tables. You quickly right yourself and continue running not looking back.

Your heart hammers in your chest and air leaves your lungs in heaving gasps. The smoke burns your throat and eyes making seeing where you are going difficult. 

Flashes of the blood stained grass outside your prison window fill your mind. Is this what those deer felt before falling prey to one of the beasts of the Hunting Grounds? Pure horror. You’re not going to make it. You never were going to. This place will be your grave. You’ll never know why the mage had done what he had. You’ll never see your home again or find out if your cow had a healthy calf. 

Sure if you die so will Hircine. You’re not against killing a dremora. If a Daedric Prince dies permanently then it will spark hope to those back on Tamriel. Perhaps there will come a day when there are no more daedra and people will finally be able to live in peace with each other. Like the mage had said, if you die then it will be for the greater good. It’s a noble sacrifice. 

However noble as it may be though, it’s not one you want to make. Not now. Not without knowing the mage’s reasoning. Maybe there’s a way to kill daedra without a sacrifice, or there are others out there that would make that sacrifice in your stead. The simple truth of it is, you don’t want to die. You want to live in peace on your farm. You want to watch your crops grow and your livestock happy and healthy. You feel selfish for wanting such things when everything would be better if you died and Hircine along with you. 

Despite the guilt, you make your mind up. You are going to live past this. You are going to get your answers and find a way to break this curse that was forced onto you. If you die along the way then so be it, but you sure as oblivion aren’t going down without a fight.


	6. Fool's Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually really surprised with the amount of feedback this story has gotten. Surprised in a good way. Thank you all for your support!! :)

Faith  
Chapter 6: Fool's Hope

__  
“Despair gives courage to a coward.” -Thomas Fuller  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------

 

Your legs carry you even quicker fueled by your newfound motivation to live. Neither of you stop when you dart through the broken doors. Wind tousles your hair every which way while rain almost painfully pelts against your skin. The storm makes visibility low but you are able to see better than the previous night at least. You can use the storm to your advantage if you are fast enough. You can make a run for the forest and try to lose your pursuers in it. The rain will also wash away your sent and tracks so once Hircine’s beasts realize that you are missing even they will have great difficulty finding you.

You run down the long stone steps that you had been roughly dragged up by Dalidrar. Your pursuers however are not far behind. A blur of movement flashes next to you but you keep running towards the forest and the tall grass. It is only when you notice that Ellen is no longer with you that you dare a glance back, feet never stalling. 

One of your pursuers, the man in white armor, holds Ellen to the ground a short distance from the stairs while she struggles in vain to escape his grasp. 

“Go! Just go! Run!” She pleads, her worried eyes meeting your own.

With the two robed attackers close behind you, you are not given much of a choice. But even so, just leaving her like that to her fate after all that she’s done for you feels so wrong. If they don’t kill her then Hircine will once he discovers it was she that helped you escape. What can you do though? Your hands are still bound and even now your chances of fleeing are slim.

You race into the forest and the tall grass that accompanies it. The rain heavy rain makes the grass slippery and more than once you almost lose your balance. If you do, then it will all be over with. You have to shake them off your trail or it’s only a matter of time before they get you. Mind racing and adrenaline rushing through your veins your eyes snap from side to side trying desperately to find somewhere you would be able to lose your pursuers. 

 

To your left you are only just able to make out the vague shape of what appears to be a large fallen tree. If you can get over to it then perhaps you can hide there to lose the two that are after you. Your feet ache and sting from your injuries but you ignore it, instead focus on running faster. Your mind is so preoccupied with escaping that you fail to notice that the tall grass disappears and you find yourself falling down a small rocky hill. You are able to catch yourself with your bound hands just in time to avoid smashing your face into a large rock. 

Your eyes dart around frantically until you realize where you are. It’s a creek, mostly dried up with only a small trickle of water moving along at a relatively slow pace. You can hear your pursuers nearby, but they slow their pace. You’re still not safe however. No where near it. 

Quietly you crawl down creek as best as you are able to. You’re not able to make it overly far, but it’ll have to do. Keeping as low to the ground as possible you crawl and pull yourself out of the creekbed and back into the tall grass. The grass, while not ideal, conceals you for your unwanted followers so long as they don’t take more than two or three steps in your direction. 

“Where in oblivion did she go?” The woman demands frustrated. 

“She can’t have gone far.” The man replies investigating the creek. “She fell down here but I can’t find any tracks with all this rain.”

Movement above you gains your attention causing your heart to leap. Just because they’re after you doesn’t mean that your pursuers are the only threat you currently have to worry about. These are the Hunting Grounds after all and all manner of monstrous beasts lurk in its shadows. 

It wouldn’t surprise you to find out that they aren’t the only ones hunting you. Surely by now with as big of an attack as it was that hit the palace word has reached Hircine and he is well on his way back, if he hasn’t returned already that is. If he has then the chances of you sneaking out with a head start are slim to none. 

Heart pounding so loud you're surprised the hooded figures don’t hear it, you suck in a quick, soft, deep breath and look up bracing yourself for the worst. In an instant relief washes over you. Sitting on a low tree branch above you is a small, brown and white owl.

Its large round yellow eyes stare down at you as it tilts its head as if curious as to why you’re laying down in the middle of nowhere. The irony has your mind reeling. Here you are being hunted down in the middle of a Daedric Prince’s realm of existence, the place where even the fiercest monsters fear for their lives, and what do you find? A tiny fluffy owl staring down at you. 

All the fear has clearly gone to your head and you’re seeing things. When you imagine the Hunting Grounds horrific beasts with large teeth and claws enter your mind. Not a cute litt-

Silently the owl takes flight. You watch it dip down into the creekbed without the two attackers noticing. When it flies back up above the lower branches you notice it has a small rock in its grasp. The owl glides to the other side of the creek a ways before releasing the rock. While the rock is small when it hits what sounds like a hollow log the sound carries far enough to gain the attention of the two that are after you. 

Within seconds they dart off in the direction the sound came from and you take the opportunity while you can. You don’t run, they are still much too close for that, so instead you crawl, relying heavily on your elbows to carry you forwards back in the direction you came from. The heavy rain making your task even more difficult. 

When you can no longer see or hear the two, you stumble to your feet and run as fast as you can to where you had seen that fallen tree. Your eyes all the while scan your surroundings. In the far distance you hear a ravenous growl echo through the trees. What direction it originated from is hard to tell. Whatever made that nightmarish sound however is not pleased and definitely not something you ever wish to met face to face. 

A small sense of relief fills you when the fallen tree you had seen earlier finally comes into view. With ease you are able to conceal yourself in the thick still green leaves of its branches. For the first time since Ellen had pulled you through your prison door you have a moment to gather your thoughts and come up with a plan. For now you should be relatively safe in your hiding spot. There would be no way for anyone or thing passing by to spot you and the heavy rainfall does well to hide your scent. 

Tears join the raindrops running down your face. Water and mud have soaked completely through your clothes and chilled you to the bone. In an attempt to retain some warmth you sit with your knees pulled up to your chest. A soft whimper tumbles out from your lips. Your wrists burn and ache from where the rope has rubbed your skin raw. 

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want any of this. You just wanted to live your life in peace. What could you have possibly done to deserve all of this? You’ve never as so much as cheated at a friendly game of cards with the neighbors. Why have the gods forsaken you? What could you have possibly done?! It’s not fair. None of this is. 

You feel trapped, alone, abandoned. You feel like there isn’t a soul that cares about your current situation. No one cares that you are trapped in the realm of a daedric prince and will more than likely die here. 

No one.

Well….perhaps that’s not entirely true. There is Ellen. She is the only one that had shown any concern and sympathy for your situation. She tried her hardest to help you. What did she get for her kindness? You left her. She needed help and you left her. Sure you really couldn't have done anything to actually helped her. The most that would of happened is that both of you would have died, but you didn’t even try. You had abandoned her just as the gods have abandoned you. You are just a coward. Perhaps you do deserve this fate after all. 

Ellen risked her life to save you, she deserves the same from you. Not bothering to dry your tears since the rain will wash them away anyways you inhale a deep breath to steady yourself. You are scared - no terrified out of your mind would be more accurate. All you want to do is run away and try to save yourself. Regardless, you can’t leave Ellen to die. Not if there is something you can do to save her. 

Cautious of your surroundings you emerge from your hiding place. There is no sign of the two that had been after you. Perhaps they are still searching for you deeper in the forest or maybe one of Hircine’s beasts had found them and had a good meal. 

A light rustling overhead gains your focus and once more you look up to find the same owl resting on a low branch curiously watching you. It tilts its head this was and that as if fascinated by you. 

“Thank you for earlier.” You softly murmur. Talking to an owl may seem like a foolish thing, perhaps it is, but thanking the small feathery bird seemed like the right thing to do. 

Taking your eyes off the owl you turn in the direction of the palace. You have two things to your advantage. The rain makes things dark and hard to see as well as smell for that matter and they don’t know where you are or even if you still live. You have stealth and surprise where they have numbers and strength. If saving Ellen is possible then you have to be smart about it. Rushing in without a plan will only get the two of you killed quicker. 

As quietly as you can you make your way back to the palace. Slowly torch and fire light shines angrily through the wet darkness. Sinking down to conceal yourself in the tall grass at the treeline you gaze out to the scene before you.


	7. Survival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this chapter: Game of Survival By: Ruelle  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AbMRDbL1Urc

Faith  
Chapter 7: Survival

 __  
“There are all these moments you think you won’t survive. And then you survive.” -David Levithan  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

While the area just outside of the palace is dimly lit by torches and fires dancing angry as they fight the strong wind and rain, they cast off enough light for you to make out what is happening. The sight before you stops your heart cold. The fire has destroyed parts of the palace entirely, smoke bellows out from the broken windows. Below are bodies of servants and even some children who had attempted to escape by jumping from the higher floors. Other bodies are sprawled across the grass bloodied with injuries that indicate they were cut down as they attempted to flee. The smell of burning flesh and smoke is not dulled by the rain.

From your spot concealed in the tall wet grass on the edge of the clearing you spy Ellen on the muddy ground where you had left her when you fled. Her dress is ripped, hair is a mess and bruises are already starting to form on her skin. Standing just before Ellen is the man clad in white armor; the same man who had issues the order for your death while standing next to the toppled over throne. By the looks of things you feel safe to assume that he is the leader of this attack.

“Do you even realize what you have done wench?!” His pointed metal boot finds its way into Ellen’s side. “Because of you she has escaped! Because of you this whole attack is threatened! If the others do not find her before Hircine returns then I will personally see to your death!” 

“P-please,” Ellen pleads as tears run freely down her terrified face. “Please don’t kill me. Please I hav-”

Suddenly a feeling so immense burns in the back of your mind as if someone stuck a hot coal inside your skull. The inferno, like a raging forest fire, engulfs your mind and you recognize it for what it is. It is the very same fiery feeling from when you had first arrived at the Hunting Grounds.

Hircine’s wrath.

For the Stag Prince to be this angry it can only mean that he has returned to see the damage the attack has caused with his own eye; no doubt after word had reached him he had raced back from his hunt. You’re not sure where exactly he is or even if he knows that you had escaped from the palace or not. You realize then that you have a choice to make. With Hircine back and somewhere nearby your chances of escaping from him dwindle. There could still be a chance to get away and somehow find a way back home. However you would have to make your escape now. You would have to leave Ellen to her fate.

Ellen had risked everything to get you out. She still is. She is the only one who has shown you any kindness since you arrived in this nightmare of a place. She is the only one who seems to genuinely care about you and your wellbeing. You had come back for her yes, but things have just changed drastically. With Hircine back your plan that the two of you could escape together has been squashed like a bug. You either have to escape alone and leave her, or you won’t escape at all.

If you do stay and try to save her and by some miracle don’t die doing so, then you know that you will be throwing away your only hope at freedom. This chance will not come again, Hircine will make deadly sure of that. Not only will you lose your one chance at escaping but that also means that you will lose your one chance at making it back home, and in turn getting to the wizard before Hircine or his beasts. It shouldn’t even be a choice. The path that you need to take is clear before you.

And yet…

With bound hands you peel a rock away from the mud and grip it firmly in your palms. This is the Hunting Grounds and it is true to its name. The attackers are the hunters and you their prey. You can give Ellen a good chance to escape with her life, by drawing the hunters away, by giving them something to hunt.

Inhaling a deep breath you attempt to push the fiery rage out of your mind to better focus. Unfortunately your attempts fail. It seems that Hircine’s anger is too great to banish so easily. Your hands tremble and your heart feels like it’s going to burst from your chest. To say that you are terrified would be a huge understatement. What you are about to do will most likely get you killed. The only whispers of comfort from that thought is that you’ll be able to help Ellen and that you won’t be dying alone. You and the Stag Prince are soul bound and so your death will also mean his; the death of a great evil that will never be able to return. 

You send up a prayer to whatever gods that haven’t abandoned you yet that by some miracle you aren’t about to get yourself killed. Darting up from your hiding spot you take aim and, as best as you can with bound hands, throw the rock at the man armored in white. The rock hits on the man’s shoulder with an audible cling that gains not only his attention, but Ellen as well.

“There you are,” The man shouts loudly in triumph. 

With his attention on you, your eyes dart to Ellen who in turn is gazing at you in surprise. 

“Run!!” You yell.

For each step towards you that the man in white takes, you take one step back. Your eyes quickly dart from him over to Ellen who is swift to egain her composure and get to her feet. Movement catches the corner of your eye as she flees into the dark forest. And like that you find yourself left alone to face your enemy.

You dart around and your feet bolt off towards the forest. With the rain still heavily falling, and the forest dark, your plan is to lose him in the trees just like you had with the other two. Then you can meet up with Ellen and get the hell out of this nightmare. 

Just short of the treeline you feel sudden pain erupt from your back where his sword had made contact. The force is enough to send you falling to the ground. You struggle helplessly to get back on your feet. You need to go. You need to run. Get out of here. Quickly! 

Your attempts to stand fail and the pain on your back clouds your mind and makes every movement send white hot pain down you. The blood soaking through the back of your shirt is diluted by the rain water. The air is knocked from your lungs when a white metal boot finds its way crashing into your stomach as you had attempted once more to get up. The force does what it is intended to and you are rolled onto your back. 

Rain falls freely on your face where it mixes with your tears. He’s going to kill you. You are going to die here in this realm of monstrous beasts. You were never going to make it back home to your farm. It was a fool's hope. The mage’s plan succeeded in the end didn’t it. Right here, right now, you are going to die and Hircine with you. 

A whimper leaves your lips at the thought. You don’t want to die. Not yet. All you want, all you’ve ever wanted was to just live your life in peace on your farm. You want to raise many cows and crops. Maybe invest in a goat or two. 

If you close your eyes and try to block out Hircine’s anger that is ever constantly buzzing in your head you can almost see it. Your beautiful farm. How the first of the morning’s sunlight hits the pond at the edge of your property and reflects rays of color in such a way you swear it has to be magic. You can see the tall grass all different shades of green and gold swaying and swirling together in a magnificent dance with the wind. You can hear the birds peacefully sing out their praises for the land around them. You mourn the fact that you were torn from such a place and knowing you will never see or set foot there again. Torn from your visions of home, you stare up into the falling rain and the man that is going to end your life. 

“For the good of all Nirn,” He quietly yet sternly declares as he raises his greatsword above his head. 

You don’t close your eyes. As much as you want to, you can't find the willpower to look away from your murderer. Let him see the horror reflected in your eyes. Let this act always haunt him. The last thing you notice is a small owl landing on a low branch of a nearby tree as the sword is brought dow-

A pained yell escapes the man’s throat and his sword is redirected, its blade sinking deeply into the mud to your left. Wide eyed you stare at a single arrow that had hit perfectly between the gap in his armor on his elbow. The arrow’s tip is impaled deeply in the inner elbow of the man’s right arm while its end is still lodged in his left. 

You don’t have time to process the seemingly impossible shot. Movement to your right gains not only your attention but the focus of your would-be killer as well. A curse escapes your almost killer.

At the further end of the small clearing a large shadowy figure emerges from the dark forest with a bow in hand. As they enter the dim light of the slowly dying fires you aren’t sure if you should be relieved or horrified even more so. Fierce, angered growls echo through the blackened woods around the clearing striking a new spark of terror in you.

“You have failed mortal,” His words like a sharp knife cut across the distance between you and all but stop your heart cold. 

It’s not just his words but how he said them. Calm and clear like stating an obvious fact of life. While stern, there is no harshness in his voice. It is that solitary thing that has a ocean wave of unease and fear coursing through you. Because you know the truth. The burning rage in the back of your mind is still there, in fact it has grown even more intense since the arrow hit its mark. You can literally _feel_ his wrath and yet there he is appearing as calm and sure as if nothing is amiss. If it wasn’t for the curse tying the two of you together you would never have suspected he to be this angered. 

In an instant the shadows of the forest erupt with movement as large beasts lunge forth in a blur. It takes you a few moments to recognize them for what they are. Werewolves, Hircine’s hounds. Much to your relief they completely ignore you. What surprises you is that they also ignore your would-be killer and instead run into the burning palace. Within seconds bloody screams burst forth from within and your ears are filled with the muffled sounds of clanking metal and flesh being torn apart. 

“Damn you to oblivion you foul daedra!” The man curses, “You will _not_ stop this! Even should I fail others will come. It will only end with your death and the death of this girl.” 

The man picks up his sword and once more swiftly brings it down on you. Again, he is stopped. This time blocked by a spear as Hircine now stands between the two of you. You stare up at his back covered by a black fur cloak, looking but not really seeing. H-how? How could he… How could _anything_ move that fast?! One moment he was on the other side of the clearing and before you could so much as blink he now stands before you.

Once more you are reminded that he is not just some daedra, but a daedric prince. He is far more powerful than your mind can even begin to comprehend. You remember the arrow he had fired. It had landed so _perfectly_ in one of the only weak spots on the man’s armor. Not only that, but it had enough strength and accuracy behind it to tear clean through his elbow and lodge itself in the same weak point on his other elbow as well. How had you ever hoped to escape from such a horrifyingly powerful being?

In your daze Hircine had managed to twist his spear quickly enough to easily disarm and knock back the man. Before he had a chance to regain his balance, the polished blue tip of Hircine’s spear pierces through the man’s hard armor and into his chest. Red runs down contrasting with shining white. With a jerk Hircine pulls his spear free. The man wobbles and sways on his feet however before he collapses a clawed hand wraps round his neck. The Prince of the Hunt hoists the dying attacker into the air careful to not entirely cut off his limited air supply.

“Who dared to send you to your death and start a war with me? There is yet enough life in you to make your last moments ones of worse misery.” Hircine demands.

A pained groan leaves your would-be killer’s bloodied lips. His mouth opens only to release a gurgle. His blood is filling his lungs you realize. He is slowly drowning. 

“Speak!” Hircine’s grip tightens, claws dig into and pierce the flesh of his unarmored neck. 

The man’s breathing slows and with his last ounce of life whispers a single word before his body goes still and life leaves him. With a look of disgust Hircine tosses the body to the muddy ground. In the back of your head Hircine’s anger still burns strong and feels as if it is scorching the inside of your skull. After a long moment of stillness, he finally turns to gaze upon you. Though you can’t see them, you can feel his eyes seemingly piercing into your soul itself through his mask. 

 

_.....mage……_


	8. Behind the Mask

Faith  
Chapter 8: Behind the Mask

_  
“If you expect the world to be fair with you because you are fair, you’re fooling yourself. That’s like expecting a lion to not eat you because you didn’t eat him.” -Unknown  
_  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the back of your head Hircine’s anger still burns strong and feels as if it is scorching the inside of your skull. After a long moment of stillness, he finally turns to gaze upon you. Though you can’t see them, you can feel his eyes through his mask seemingly piercing into your very soul. 

He doesn’t break his eyes away from yours. Not for a second. Your mind is a flurry of thoughts and you half wish that the mud under you would swallow you up. What had started out as the doings of a madman has just become something so much more. While for the mage to kidnap and attempt to kill you in the middle of the night is horrifying, for him to actually send a small army into the realm of a daedric prince after you in an attempt to end your life is something else entirely. For him to go _so_ far.... Why…? Does he truly despise you that much? Why use you anyways? Why not tie someone else's soul to the Stag Prince? Out of everyone on Nirn, why _you_?

Your heart comes to a screeching halt when Hircine suddenly moves towards you. He kneels before you as your lungs scream for air that you don’t even realize you are denying them. Your eyes, wide with fear, stare unblinking into the dark empty eye sockets of the deer mask. Hircine’s volcanic rage has yet to calm. In fact, the closer he gets the more clearly you can feel his wrath scorching the inside of your skull. 

Quicker than a lightning strike, his hand is around your throat. Sharp claws dig into your flesh as he jerks you from where you lay until your face is a few mere inches from his. The wound on your back protests the harsh movement and sends sharp, deep jolts of pain down your spine. Fresh tears fill your eyes and run down your dirt clad face from equal parts pain and fear. The memory of what happened to the last person that Hircine’s hand found is at the front of your mind. 

Will he do to you what he did to your would-be killer?

“You claim that this mage, this stranger to you, took you against your will. That his dark magic is what now binds us together. Now a small legion of mortals dared to invade my lands and start a war with me.” His grip on your neck tightens as his anger grows.

“You would have me believe that you have no part in this scheme? Speak, there are far worse things than death little fawn.”

The rain mixes with your tears as you gasp for air you can’t take in. Your hands fruitlessly claw at his wrist in an attempt to break away from his hold on you. He knows that he can’t kill you or it will lead to his demise as well, however that doesn’t mean that you are safe from him or his wrath. He is right, there are some things that are much worse than death. But what to tell him that you haven’t already? If your words before aren't enough to appease him what more can you do? What more can you say? Nothing comes to mind, after all you don't know what's going on much more than he does.

You open your mouth but only a choked gurgle leaves your lips. The vision of his mask grows blurred and cloudy. The constant rain and the mud now thickly coating you drains seemingly every ounce of heat from your body. Tears trickle freely from your eyes. Your body is quivering, either from the bitter cold or fear or more realistically, both. Your mind keeps running around in the same circle over and over. Why would he do this to you? You were always good to him. So why? Why bind you to some foul daedra and go so far to ensure your death? Why you? Your mind rushes over seemingly ordinary everyday events trying to place what you did wrong. What you did to deserve a fate such as this. Now you are at the mercy of a very pissed off daedric prince. A prince whose hand is literally at your throat. 

Shivering, scared, lost and abandoned in a world meant for beasts and daedra, the full weight of dread hopelessness fills you to your very soul. He won't kill you. At least not until whatever the mage did can be undone. While you may be fairly physically safe from Hircine, your mind is another thing entirely and in its already fragile state, it would be an easy thing to break.

“I...I d-don't…” Is all that you can manage on your third attempt. You don't get a fourth try before everything goes black and numb.

You awake to the sounds of people talking and a stinging pain across your back. It takes a few moments for your eyes to focus after you open them but when they do you realize three things.

One, while your back hurts and throbs you still draw breath. It seems Hircine hasn't decided to kill you yet, not that he has a huge choice on the matter given the cerium stances. 

The second thing that you notice is that you are laying on your stomach atop something soft and warm. It takes your groggy mind a moment to realize that you are on one of many fur covered cots set up in the main hall of the palace. The rubble and ruins of the palace have been mostly cleared away in the area to make room for a makeshift infirmary. House maids and healers tend to the injured around you and the scent of herbs and medicines fills the air. Your wounds must have been tended to when you were out cold. The dirt and mud have been cleansed from your skin and hair and bandages now decorated your chest and back.

The final thing you realize is that sitting proudly not so far away on his throne is the Prince of the Hunt. What throws you off is that for the first time since your arrival into his realm, his face isn’t hidden beneath the deer skull mask. You don’t really know what you expected to see under his mask, but it wasn’t this. 

The while definitely human-like, deer pattern on his skin continues on his face. Small dots of white are scattered here and there with a white forehead that arches down to end at his nose. The nose in question reminds you of that of a kajiit or given the circumstances, a deer; it matches not only his skin pattern but also his ears and antlers atop his head. Long dark brown wavy hair cascades down his back and over his shoulders where it ends close to his waist.

His attention is focused on a nordic man speaking before him. From what the feeling in the back of your head can tell you, Hircine has calmed down quite a bit. The raging fire is now more of a quiet buzzing. If you had to take a guess you’d have to say that he’s more irritated than anything. 

“...And three more were found dead in what remains of the library.” The nordic man finishes reporting.

You hadn’t realized you were staring at him until his eyes flick over and lock with your own. In that moment, you swear that your heart actually stops in your chest. Living on your farm, you’ve never had a lot of interactions with people. You’ve never met anyone important, nobles or otherwise. Despite that you can say with absolute certainty that no being in existence has eyes like the Prince of the Hunt. Strong, intimidating without effort, and oblivion seeing as if he is gazing into the very essence of your being and knows more about you than even yourself. Slitted cat-like pupils edged with a vibrant green that is surrounded by molten gold. 

You can’t look away, you don’t even think to do so. Your body holding his gaze on its own. As if the rest of the world no longer exists. You can see the hints of irritation in his golden-green depth. Beneath his eyes are two small blue upside down triangles that remind you of tribal markings you had read in a book as a child left to you by your mother. He’s still upset about the attack and you invading his lands. The buzzing in the back of your head only confirms it further. What else could you possibly say to him? It’s not like you wanted to be here, bound to him with a small army bent on killing you. You don’t want to be here and you don’t belong here. You just want to go home and live in peace. Can’t he understand that? Perhaps it is something that he isn’t capable of understanding, he is a daedra after all. He would never be able to see things from your standpoint. That you are just as angry as he is about the situation. 

The more seconds that pass your stare turns into an angered glare. Hircine answers in turn. The buzzing in your head becoming slightly louder as his slitted eyes narrow challenging you. His anger only fuels your own that much more. What right does he have to be this angry at you? You haven’t done anything other than try to get back home where you belong. You had even abandoned that plan to save Ellen, one of _his_ servents. You have no part in what the mage did and is attempting to do. You’ve been tied up and led through a forest in the middle of the night. You were forced to sit and watch as the mage cast his foul magic on you, binding you to the Prince of the Hunt. Had to watch as he tried to kill you only to fail before you were tossed into another realm altogether, now bound to a daedric prince. You were tied up, unable to move, a sitting duck in the middle of the Hunting Grounds at night of all times only to be discovered by a monsterous werebear and dragged through said forest. You had been tossed at Hircine’s feet and interrogated before being locked away.

You are tired of being scared. You’re tired of being treated like scum, like you planned all of this. You’re angry that Hircine won’t listen to you, that you had no part in this. What right does he have to be pissed at you? If anyone should be mad it should be you.

Something the nord says slowly draws Hircine’s attention back to him and away from you and you are finally free from his golden-green eyes on you. Your attention is brought away from the prince and the man as one of the healers approaches you noticing that you are now awake. 

“The wound you sustained on your back was very bad. I managed to close it but despite my efforts it will still most likely leave a permanent mark.” The dark elf maiden explains.

Does that mean Hircine will share the same scar as you? You offer her a grateful smile, “Thank you. May I know your name?”

“Mila, I’m a maid under Miss. Ellen’s instruction.” She explains.

“How is Ellen? Is she okay? They had captured her but thankfully she got away.”

“Miss. Ellen is safe and in good health. She is currently busy assisting with repairs to Huntsman’s Hall.” Mila assures.

“Huntsman’s Hall?”

“Yes, where we’re at now. Hircine’s palace. It is named Huntsman's Hall.” 

You really shouldn’t be that surprised by it. What else would the daedric Prince of the Hunt name his palace. 

Movement catches both yours and Mila’s attention and she steps to the side bowing her head as Hircine approaches. His eyes run down the bandages that cover your upper body before they snap up to your own then over to Mila.

As if knowing the unasked question Mila answers, “I have bound her wounds, applied the appropriate medications and stopped the bleeding. It will take time for the wound to heal properly but she will make a full recovery.”

“She is fit for travel then?”

“Yes, my lord. So long as it is light.”

Travel? What is he planning to do with you? By the sound of it you won’t be locked up in that room anymore but that doesn’t mean he isn’t planning on leading you somewhere worse. Images of old, isolated, abandoned prisons lost in the dense forests of the Hunting Grounds enter your mind. Is his plan to lock you away where you can’t be easily found or escape from? Dread settles in your gut like birds nesting for a long winter. 

Hircine returns to his throne, however he doesn’t sit as before. Instead he takes his spear that had been leaning against the wall next to his throne. Spear in hand, he turns to address Dalidrar who is nearby giving orders out to both guards and common workers alike.

“Take those that are injured to Deer Pine. Ensure they have shelter and send an extra patrol with them. Everyone else who is able is to work on repairs. I want double shifts on the palace grounds.” 

“Right away Lord Hircine.” Dalidrar salutes. 

Once more Hircine makes his way over to stand before you. “Come little fawn, the wilds await.”

His words combined with the intimidating gleam in his eyes sends fear and dread into your heart like an arrow. Whatever he is planning to do to you will surely be no less fitting of a foul daedra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
> You guys are LUCKY. I got this finished up and was able to post it before my second class.   
> Sorry the update took so long, been busy with school. Thankfully I have a 2 hour break between my first and second class which I use as study and writing time.


End file.
